Letting Go
by m klindt
Summary: Sometimes doing something wrong ends up with its own rewards.


Letting Go

By

M. Klindt

I don't own the MFU characters, but like to use them to write my stories. Thanks for reading.

Illya Kuryakin, Number Two of Section Two of UNCLE headquarters New York, sat at the base of a tree in Central Park waiting for his and Napoleon Solo's prey. They were two rather nasty, mid-level, THRUSH agents who were to meet up with an informant regarding the security of the United States President's campaign manager.

He and his partner had split up to make a better trap to spring on their rivals, John Clinger and Robert Hong. Illya remembered the pair well when he was their uninvited guests in one of the warehouses that he was sent to blow up by Waverly. They'd caught him setting the last explosive and made it known to him that his presence wasn't welcome as they roughed him up, handcuffed him to an overhead pipe, and beat him while they waited for their boss to show up.

While the three waited in the dark, damp warehouse for their boss, Clinger and Hong began to play a game of catch with the wireless remote to the bombs and an explosion unexpectedly went off with a rather loud, ground-shaking bang that eventually burned the whole building down. Luckily, they all escaped relatively unharmed.

Illya smirked, wondering why those two were still alive and working for THRUSH after that crazy incident. They must have lied through their teeth about the explosion and he could guarantee that he was given the primary blame for the blast, which was mostly true anyway.

A soft breeze on the warm night air ruffled Illya's bright hair and he looked around the park. The secluded bench for the meeting was ringed by mature trees and a tall stone wall. On the back side of the wall were thick, unruly bushes that needed trimming. It was beginning to get dark and he jumped as the street lights snapped on. To his surprise, there was a spot light directed toward the trees on each side of the freshly painted green bench.

With the lights bathing the slim tree trunks so completely, there was no way he could blend in with his black attire and quickly decided to climb the bigger of the two trees to take an advantage point from above by promptly scurrying up to a secluded branch.

Taking in the surroundings from his new perch, the Section Two agent spotted his prey slowly making their way closer from more than a block away. A sigh escaped his lungs when he tried to see where Napoleon had set up his hidden spot, but couldn't find him in the glare of the spotlights.

Then, it hit him like a bullet. He had to pee like, well, he'd pardon himself, like a Russian race horse. Ever since he had taken that sucker punch to his lower lumbar spine last month, Illya was still numb and it was taking forever for his body to tell when his bladder was getting full until it was almost too late.

And now he was stuck up a tree, with THRUSH a block and a half away, a missing partner, and no relief in sight, except to…

Illya looked over into the darkness as he stood level with the plain brick wall. In the blackening twilight, he could only make out the waving, shiny, ebony leaves dancing in the wind.

The Russian spy knew that it was illegal to urinate in Central Park, but this was an emergency. He couldn't count the number of times he saw and did it himself. When men didn't always use a toilet in many European Cities; he reasoned with himself. If he hurried, he could relieve himself and get into position without anyone the wiser.

Taking a cautious step further out onto the limb and into the shadows, Illya silently unzipped his fly. With a deep breath drawn in through his nose he let go. After holding his breath for the first few intense seconds to hear any response to his action, Illya started to look around and devilishly smiled as memories from his military days flooded his mind about the competitions the comrades would have in who could shoot the furthest or highest.

Illya ended his indiscretion with renewed push to go further than the bushes and try for the deserted walkway's edge when heard a yelp and thrashing of a couple voices. Surprised, guilty, and amused at the same time, he quickly zipped up and circled back behind the leaves of the tree with cat-like agility in hopes not to be caught by anyone.

Luckily, Illya was back in his spot and ready for action when the two THRUSH agents walked within thirty yards of his perch and they hadn't seen his movements. The bad guys nervously looked around the park while making their way to the bench.

Silently, with the skills of a sniper, Illya took careful aim with his special and shot each man with a mercy bullet. He humped in disgust, wondering why Waverly would want to keep these two, rather idiotic, Thrushies, as Napoleon called them.

After pocketing his gun in the holster hidden in his jacket, Illya gracefully jumped down to the ground and began to handcuff the sleeping bad guys to the bench. He smoothed his hair down, pulled out his communicator to engage it.

"Open channel D," he said, looking for Napoleon with a sigh of frustration.

"I see that you got the job done." Napoleon came around the corner of the wall with a folded handkerchief in his hand. He was dabbing at the large wet stains on his suit jacket with futility.

"This is…Kuryakin…I need the Section Three for pick up." Illya stammered, intensely looking at Napoleon with big, round eyes, his nose picking up an unsavory scent. "Where were you and why are you wet? What's that smell?"

"Well," Napoleon cleared his throat and started to turn red in the face when a grimace drew across his lips. "While I was waiting, I bumped into an old acquaintance of mine and we began to talk."

Illya turned his head toward the THRUSH agents sleeping peacefully by the bench, hiding the uncontrollable grin on his face in an attempt to keep his voice level and grumpy sounding. An accidental need to relieve himself turned into a great opportunity for some fun. "You mean an old female acquaintance…"

"Now, that's not true." Napoleon said in defense, "She's not old and is she very good looking…"

"That explains where you were while I did the dirty work," Illya dramatically sighed after he felt strong enough to face his partner without cracking a smile or fall on the ground from laughing. "But, it doesn't explain why you stink and you're wet."

"Ericka Woodson…"

"The very old acquaintance," Illya jumped in. He knew him well enough that Napoleon had his back when needed and they had flipped a coin to see who was to actually take the men out and Napoleon had won of course.

"We were discussing the weather, the stars, the moon, and our next date when all of a sudden, it began to rain. A warm rain in a single stream only over this very wall…" Napoleon started to put two and two together and gave his partner an accusatory look. "Then the smell hit and Erin ran off in fear that she would get hit like I did..."

"I thought you said her name was Ericka." Illya's voice became tight; he began rubbing his lower jaw to distract himself from his friend's hard stare. "I was too busy taking care of these two to see anything. Sorry, Napoleon I can't help you."

"Yes, I can see that you're all choked up about it." Napoleon went back to dabbing the wet stain off his clothes. He knew that Illya wouldn't come clean about his involvement. "Only in New York and in Central Park can one expect to have it rain piss from the sky."

"Why don't you take a cab home? I'll wait for backup and report in." Illya offered suddenly. He knew that he could tease Napoleon in the park without expecting too much retribution, but if he had made him go with him to headquarters reeking of urine, he would had have hell to pay.

"Yes," Napoleon lisped out, his eyes throwing angry daggers at his partner while stuffing his sopping handkerchief into his coat pocket. "Thank you."

Napoleon couldn't say too much, because he did know that he'd been remiss in staying focused on their assignment even though either one of them could have easily handled the situation on their own. This was a minor punishment for it. Illya could have made him explain the smell to Waverly and parade him all over UNCLE, but chose to be somewhat discreet.

"You'd better go now," Illya nodded to the dark-haired man as his eyes traveled passed him and to the approaching Section Three agents coming up the sidewalk. "I'll call you later…"

"Not too early," Napoleon shrugged nonchalantly, smirked, and then gave his partner a not-so-friendly pat on the shoulder. "I may still get together with Erin…"

"Ericka," his blond partner reminded the man. "Go home, Napoleon, you smell and not in a good way."

"I'll call you if she has a friend…" Napoleon mockingly frowned and then chuckled before he took off to find a cab, giving Illya a backwards wave.

"I'll keep that in mind. Choryt! I need to lay off the garlic." Illya murmured softly and then turned to the men from Section Three. "Gentlemen, it's nice to see you..."


End file.
